


Horn-Dog (A Wincest Birthday)

by MothMeetsFlame



Series: Holidays with the Wincesters [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Presents, Bottom!Sam, Breeding, Cock Rings, Dean as Duke, Dom!Sam, Dry Humping, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Puppy Play, Rough Sex, Sam's Birthday, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Training, bottom!Dean, not bestiality, puppy!Dean, top!John, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1560872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothMeetsFlame/pseuds/MothMeetsFlame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sam's birthday. John has a surprise for him. Dean isn't much one for impulse control, and that's just the way Sam likes it.</p><p>(now extended!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horn-Dog (A Wincest Birthday)

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Underage. Sam turns 13 in this fic, and there are implications of much younger frottage. Also contains incest, light BDSM, and animal/pet play. No likey, no clickey. Seriously though, if you don't like this shit, now's the time to hit that back button and pretend this never existed.
> 
> June '14: Yay! I promised an extend version, and here it is! It's much later than I thought it would be, but I hope everyone enjoys ;)

“What about Dean?” Sam asked.

John practically had to shove him out of the doorway and into the Impala himself, his youngest wouldn’t move. “He’s staying home sick today.”

“Oh,” Sam said, disappointed. Then he got it. “Oh. You’re taking him on a Hunt.”

“Yeah,” John said gruffly, avoiding eye contact so he wouldn’t have to see the look of disappointment on his son’s face.

“Oh.” His voice wasn’t cheerful, not by a long shot, but it wasn’t as gloomy either.

John dropped Sam off at the front of the school and hightailed it out of there, driving as quickly as he could to Dean. There was a lot for them to do before Sam was out for the day.

 

 

 

 

Sam walking through the door was music to Dean’s ears. He saw his father’s large grin and was off, bounding as quick as he could to the door to greet him. Sam wasn’t even inside of the hotel long enough to drop his backpack before Dean was on him, pawing greedily at his shirt. Dean whined, quick little whimpers that showed his eagerness in a way even his outfit didn’t.

“Duke,” John ordered. “Down.”

Dean didn’t listen, didn’t care enough to. He’d been on edge too long. John hadn’t even waited until Sam was out the door, on his way to school, before he began toying with him, slicking up his fingers and toying with Dean just enough to stretch him for his tail plug. It had been a great experience… for the first hour. After that, though, it was too much, overwhelming really, to have John play with him without even the promise of release.

Still, Dean tried.

His tail wagged insistently, nearly succeeding in pressing against his prostate, but it just wasn’t enough. His collar was two rungs too tight—high necked sweaters weren’t his thing generally, but it was late enough in the season that he could pull it off—his mitts kept him from properly stroking himself, and that goddamn cock ring wouldn’t allow him to come.

Sam, though, could provide him with the torturous friction he craved like a drowning man craved water.

Sam’s leg was still clothed, but the jeans were smooth and not anywhere even close to dirty with how big of a clean freak his brother was, despite having been at school all day.

Dean was on him in seconds, pressing his straining cock against his brother’s leg and, _ohgod_ , it felt so good to finally have something to rut against. His cheek pressed itself against Sam’s thigh, and his mouth parted, panting in short gasps as pleasure rose inside of him, only to be held off by the thin cock ring strangling his erection.

The tug on his collar pulled him from the sensation. “Duke.” John’s voice was hard. “Down.”

With a small whimper, Dean followed, knowing that resistance would cause him to be wounded—human necks weren’t as strong as dog necks were, couldn’t hold up to a pulled collar—and he knew that that wasn’t the point of this game, even though he really did like the welts and bruises he was sure to have later from its tightness.

Oh, yeah, he was gonna be a _bad_ dog.

Now, though, was a time for obedience. He trotted to his father’s side and kneeled readily. He watched as Sam’s eyes roamed his body, pausing on the stiff cock that bobbed slightly against his belly button every time he moved.

“Dad?” Sam asked. Dean could see the cock hardening in his brother’s pants, but Sam was studiously ignoring it, still curious as to what the hell was happening. “What the hell?”

Dean stifled a shiver at how deep Sam’s voice had gotten and grinned, still panting with the effort of not tackling and taking Sam right then and there. John was grinning from ear to ear, Dean knew. He didn’t have to see it to know. It was the same stupid grin he’d been wearing when he woke Dean up and clipped the collar on.

“Happy birthday, Sam,” John said.

Dean yipped, and rolled over onto his back, keeping his arms tucked close to his chest, writhing this way and that, letting his cock strike against his thighs and the plug force itself in deeper with the pressure, his hole stretching wider around the tail where the thickest part was forcing itself in. He was a show off, so sue him.

Sam sucked in a breath, surely enjoying the sight. He was slack-jawed, and Dean was sure he didn’t imagine the twitch in Sam’s pants.

Then Sam smiled. “A puppy?”

John nodded. “Thought you might wanna know what it’s like to be on the receiving end.”

Sam’s eyes went wide, but his smile got bigger. He patted his legs. “C’mere, boy.”

And Dean was up in an instant, not holding back anymore.

Sam landed flat on his ass, but Dean ignored the short hiss of surprise, choosing instead to lick at Sam’s face, tasting the salty sweet of his brother’s skin. He ravished his brother’s mouth, licking his way inside and nipping at his lips, loving the way Sam moaned around him.

He whimpered again, wanting, _needing_ more, but the damn mitts wouldn’t let him even unclothe his brother’s cock for him to taste. He had to make do with Sam’s mouth, wet and warm against his, but not the _right_ wet, not the _right_ warm.

It was unfair, it really was.

Dean didn’t care, though. If it had been this morning, he would have been more than happy to play this game, but John was an expert in getting him this way, turning him into such a goddamn cockslut that he couldn’t wait for his brother to grab his mouth and force it open with the thickness of his cock, fill him up and then just _take him_ with a vigor that would have him feeling it for days—not that that was really John’s fault so much as it was Dean’s, especially when it came to his brother.

Dean pressed himself over Sam, pinning him to the ground beneath him and, _ohgodSammy_ , rubbed his unclothed cock against Sam’s. It was pain. It was pleasure. It was the sweetest mixture of both, and Dean couldn’t help but thrust his hips in line with Sam’s so he could feel it.

It wasn’t long before Sam was moaning a litany of curses as Dean was huffing into his mouth, wanting to keep licking but not able to with the _toomuchohsogood_ friction. Sam’s body tensed completely and he let out a yell, straining as his orgasm was wrenched from him, Dean still happily providing the contact he needed.

When his brother’s muscles relaxed in a haze of the afterglow, Dean nearly groaned, wanting to continue his rut, but not wanting to cause him any pain from the overstimulation of his sensitive cock.

It was second nature now to express his displeasure at not being allowed his own release. Soft whimpers escaped his throat while he pawed at Sam’s torso, trying to draw attention to his neglected cock. Dean shook with need, but he couldn’t to do anything about it for now. From the fucked out expression on Sam’s face, he wasn’t going to do anything about it either.

Dean nestled into Sam’s side, licking sensuously at his neck. His brother’s fingers wrapped around him to scratch at his head, parting his hair with a light scrape of fingernails. It was heaven, and Dean was perfectly content in that moment to ignore his own straining erection in favor of just enjoying the sensation.

“Good boy,” Sam whispered.

Dean huffed in response. He could feel Sam rebounding through his come-soaked jeans. Officially becoming a teenager was doing wonders for the kid’s libido.

John chuckled. “You know,” John said conversationally, knowing just what kind of reaction he was going to get. “The tail vibrates.”

It didn’t take long for Sam to pull himself up off of the floor after that. Unfortunately for Dean, it was going to be a while before he was allowed to come. That thought in mind, he whined.

“Hush, boy,” Sam said in a commanding tone that Dean didn’t even know his brother possessed.

Dean couldn’t help it, though. The rising tide inside of him was at the brink, and he needed more, needed whatever Sam could give him. Hell, he was so on edge he was sure that, if they’d asked, he wouldn’t have hesitated to take them both. His low whines increased in volume, broadcasting his thoughts the only way he could.

“Looks like he could use some training,” John observed.

Dean whined again at the thought.

Sam’s grin showed only briefly at the thought before it turned stern. He disappeared into the kitchen, the sight of him blocked by John’s solid frame, and returned moments later, a rolled-up newspaper in hand.

“I said hush, boy,” Sam said, swatting him once on the rear.

Dean yipped in surprise, a sound he planned on denying wholeheartedly, when another smack followed. Then came three more.

“No whining,” Sam said, the strikes firm on the sensitive flesh of his ass, but not so bad that he was overdoing it. After two dozen—and damn that newspaper was _thick—_ Dean felt the pricking of tears at his eyes, but he held them off, tucked into the back of his mind right along with the whining.

He could have kept going if he wanted. Hell, his erection hadn’t flagged in the slightest, but the thought of delaying his orgasm once again wasn’t even an option. As long as Sam continued plundering his ass with the newspaper, he wasn’t even thinking about Dean coming, and that wasn’t something Dean could tolerate.

So Dean was ready to be a good boy, just this once. He could get up to some mischief later.

Sam’s hands were warm against his burning cheeks, touching the welts with light strokes of his hands, making Dean shiver. The pain was exquisite, though it didn’t do much to dull the need. He was about to whine again, but stopped himself just in time.

“Such a pretty puppy,” Sam said reverently. “Right, Dad?”

“The prettiest,” John agreed, his own hands coming to join his son’s on Dean’s sensitive ass.

“Pretty eyes, pretty face, pretty ass, pretty cock,” Sam listed. Then his hand trailed lower and gave the organ a few quick pulls.

Dean couldn’t help the gasp that slid out. It had been so long since anyone had touched him there that he couldn’t even believe for a moment that he wasn’t imagining it. But no, it was Sam’s hand warm and steady on his aching cock, stroking with assurance, just tight enough for it to make the tide rise again, building the need until he almost couldn’t hold in the whimpers anymore. The cock ring wouldn’t be enough this time, Dean thought as he reveled in Sam’s hand on him. He was surely going to come, even with it on.

But Sam backed off, not so much dropping Dean’s cock as letting it bob back up toward his stomach when it was released.

“Pretty lips,” John added, running his thumb over them.

Sam hummed in agreement.

“Think they’d be prettier stretched around a cock. Dontcha think, Sammy? Then maybe you can breed your bitch up good. I’m sure he’s more than ready.”

Dean opened his eyes, surprised they’d been clenched so tight while Sam stroked him, and peered up at his brother through thick lashes. Even with the cock ring holding tight to the base of him, a thick bead of precome shot out at the word _breed_. It was obscene. Breeding sounded so messy, filthy, animalistic, something that should have put him off immediately... but he couldn’t deny that it had a certain appeal.

His hole quivered around his tail plug, just wanting to be stretched and pounded, _bred_.

 _Oh, God. Yes,_ he wanted to scream. _Yes!_ But he couldn’t. He was a dog, a pup. Good puppies didn’t speak, and he wanted very much to be a good dog now. He didn’t doubt that only good dogs got bred.

“I don’t know, Dad,” Sam said, now playing with his tail plug, pressing it in and out, toying absentmindedly with his prostate. _Damn_ , Dean was seeing stars. “I don’t really think he’s a bitch. Seems more like a _stud_ to me. What do you think? Think he deserves a nice, tight bitch to breed up?”

Dean couldn’t deny that his cock was completely alright with that option as well.

“I don’t know,” John said. He parted Dean’s lips and slid two fingers inside, getting them nice and wet before slipping them into his hole right alongside the plug. Damn it felt good to be stretched. “He seems like a good bitch to me. I think you’ll be surprised. Just look at the way he’s fucking himself on my fingers.”

And he was. Dean rocked back against John’s fingers, against a stretch that would have killed him just a few months ago, but it was pleasant now, especially when it put John in direct contact with his prostate.

“That right, boy?” Sam asked. “You looking for a stud to fill you up? Look so nice, your pretty hole stretched over my cock, Daddy’s cock. That what you want? Want your studs to fuck you?”

Dean wasn’t able to hold in a whine that time. _Oh fuck_. Did he want them to fuck him? _OhGodyes. Fuck_. His vision went grey, faded out while Sam’s fingers slipped inside of him, right beside his father and the plug. John crooked his finger again, and he couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much.

Dean’s eyes slipped shut again of their own volition, everything fading away but for the feel of fingers inside of him, stretching him wider than he’d ever been stretched while pleasure coursed through him. His upstairs brain was now closed for business. It was time for his body to rule.

Muscles he didn’t even realize existed quivered, shivered, and flexed in tandem with the steady movements of the two men inside of him. He arched his back, forcing himself further and further back until the fingers were as deep as they could go. Then he relaxed, bowed forward, relishing in the slow pull of slick pressure. 

“I think you’re right, Dad,” Sam said, his voice shaky at the display of wantonness that was more than rare to see from his brother.

“Yeah,” John said dumbly, barely able to get the word out.

All too soon, the fingers were gone, leaving him in a state of agony as his ass fluttered around the plug, looking for the fingers that had brought him so much pleasure.

 _Fuck_ , he _needed_ release. He was so close, so _goddamn close_. For the first time, tears didn’t fall from his eyes because of the pain, even though this was torture, pure and simple. Pain was the farthest thing from his mind. It was pleasure coursing through him, but he still couldn’t help the tears from coursing down his cheeks. The wet trails distracted him just enough, the shock grounding him in reality, to open his eyes and seek out that remarkable pressure again.

“Shit. Sam stop.” John was worried at the panicked look in Dean’s eye and the tears that were staining his cheeks.

His brother came into view then and his expression was so out of place that Dean was nearly pulled from his mind. It only took one step, though, to put him right back when his tail wiggled against _that spot_ with the movement. He froze in place, trembling as the tail continued to wag, shocks of sensation shooting through up his spine.

With that, he was done—done waiting, done holding back, done trying to be good. He couldn’t do it anymore.

Sam’s concern turned to shock when Dean suddenly pressed his face against his still-clothed cock.

Dean nuzzled the quickly hardening flesh, licking along the seam, feeling the zipper beneath his tongue, until he came to the smooth metal of the zipper. Hands bound beneath him, he latched on with his teeth and _pulled_ , happy when it didn’t take more than a second nudge to unbutton the top.

He didn’t need hands for the second part.

No matter that Sam was tall, strong. He was still only thirteen, and Dean was much stronger. Using his arms for leverage, Dean pulled his brother to the floor and straddled his chest when he tried to rise.

Sam kept pressing, so Dean growled, low and threatening— _don’t even think about it_ , portrayed easily with the simple noise.

Dean didn’t stick around to see if he’d listen or not. He latched onto the bottom of Sam’s pant-leg with his teeth and pulled alternatively—left, right, left, right—until they were off completely.

Sam’s cock sprung free, and Dean was thankful that he didn’t have to worry about underwear. Unless they were lacy, satiny, or suggestive, Sam tended to favor going commando. Dean didn’t think that it had ever been a more important decision than it was in that moment.

Sam’s cock, though, wasn’t his goal.

His brother was right the first time. Dean wasn’t the bitch in this situation, and from the goose bumps that spread over Sam’s thighs and the small whining noises coming from his mouth, Dean was absolutely certain of who the bitch was in this situation.

He licked a quick swipe over his brother’s taint, tasting a hint of the vanilla flavored lube they’d bought just days ago. That was enough for him. Before he even realized he’d done it, Dean twisted Sam up and around so his ass was in the air, ready and waiting like the good bitch he was.

Dean licked again happily, loving the taste of _Sam_ beneath the sweetness. Like Dean before him, Sam’s back arched with the pleasure of the wet warmth against him. Sam’s muscles rippled gently when he pointed tongue dipped into his already prepped hole for a better taste. Just imagining the grip that the tight stretch of muscle would have on his cock had Dean nearly whimpering again.

Without further adieu Dean lined himself up and pressed, even that much pressure on his neglected cock making him ache in pain with a need to come like he’d never experienced. But he pressed, forced his way into the tightness until the entire head of his enflamed cock was in, then pressed further still.

Every inch was torture because he knew that, even though he was getting the wonderful attention he needed for the sensitive nerves, he knew that coming was nothing but a distant dream with the cockring keeping him constricted.

“ _Fuck, fuck, ohGod,”_ Sam cursed when he finally bottomed out.

If the feeling of slowly pressing his way into Sam was unbearable, it was nothing compared to the feel of the tensing muscles surrounding him as his brother went from empty to full in the space of a minute. He was so consumed by the contact, that he didn’t notice his father at his back until his tail was removed all at once and caressing fingers dipped inside the gaping chasm that was left.

One finger, two, then three, and Dean wasn’t sure whether he was rutting back and forth to feel Sam or his father. Probably both.

“ _Good boy, fuck, so go-od,”_ Sam chanted, curses mixed with praises as Dean’s cock speared through him, abusing his prostate with every pass.

The fingers disappeared from his hole, replaced immediately with his father’s cock. Unlike Dean, John didn’t take things slow. With one quick thrust, John bottomed out, feeling his eldest completely surround him for the _first time_ with nothing more than a light whimper before he began rutting again.

After only a few minutes had passed, Dean felt the telltale sign of John’s release as warm gushes of come flooded his system. Dean knew that John wanted to still inside of him, but he couldn’t. Dean kept fucking into Sam, pushing himself onto John’s cock as it shot spurt after spurt inside of him.

Finally finished, he pulled out, and Dean could feel the come drip from his gaping hole, the muscles stretched too wide for him to keep it inside.

“ _DeanDeanDeanfuckfuckmeDean_.” And Sam was coming too, his milky white release spilling in thick strands onto the floor beneath him while Dean continued to assault him.

Dean couldn’t stop, couldn’t wait, just had to keep going. Ignoring his brother’s whines of overstimulation, he fucked harder and harder into him, knowing that Sam would be sporting bruises from the rough treatment. And, fuck, if that didn’t make him want to thrust harder.

John’s arm came around his waist and pulled him from the clenching tightness of his brother’s ass. His cock bobbed back up to his stomach, so achingly painful that more tears fell from his eyes at the loss. Dean whimpered again, low whines making their way from his throat, begging, _begging_ to just _let him come already_.

But John wasn’t about to let his son’s present go to waste.

“Good pups don’t beg,” John said, admonishing him lightly for the action.

He brought Dean over to the bed and tossed him down lightly, fixing him into place—the same position Sam was in not ten seconds ago. This time, though, chains were attached to his wrists, and a leash was clipped to the D-ring on his collar, securing him to the bed.

“Said we were gonna breed you, boy,” John said, running a hand up his back and scratching him behind the ear. “Gotta be a good boy for Sammy, don’t you?” Then John leaned down to whisper in his ear. “We’re gonna take turns fucking you, Dean. All. Night. Long. You don’t get to come until your studs are done breeding you. Now stop whining like a good bitch and get ready because we’re not even close to done. Are we, Sammy?” he asked louder.

“Not even close,” came the breathless reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are much appreciated. Comments doubly so. Any suggestions? Requests? Hit me up :) Next fic will come on Father's Day.


End file.
